Forgotten

I remember forwards. I remember forwards, and forget backwards. My memories, bad, boring, or good, haven’t happened yet. So I will remember standing in the fresh-cut grass with the black-clad figures surrounded by stone until I do it for real. I will remember the funeral until it happens - until someone dies. And after that, it will be forgotten. Here’s the thing about me: I can see my future, but my past is blank. I see the future in flashes, like memories. I remember what I’ll wear tomorrow…